Homo Novus Kind of Love
by WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: Sheldon loves his family, his friends, science, and his routine.  And Amy.  But not like that.  Not how the average person loves. "Romance" because it's as close as Sheldon will ever come - if it was up to me.


This isn't really romantic. Not in the sense that we would think of it. It's probably as close as I can bring myself to writing a romantic Sheldon. It actually made me a bit uncomfortable, but I re – read it and thought to myself _yeah, this is what I'm going for._ So I hope you like it!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. But if I did, this is the most we'd ever get out of Sheldon in the Romance Department.

Sheldon Cooper does not love.

He'd admit, if pressured or thinking to himself, that that statement was not entirely true. He loved his Mee Maw. He loved his mother, and sure, his father too, even though he was the one who started those fights that made him blare lectures in his room. He loved his sister Missy, his brother George Jr., and he loved his friends.

So fine. Sheldon Cooper does love. But not like _that_.

Not in the messy, exchange-saliva-and-call-repeatedly-to-a-deity way that his friends seemed to love so very much, but he supposed that conversation Penny had with him explaining that love has many different types wasn't a total falsification that her simple mind had come up with to appease him when he'd became distressed after his mother accused him of loving his friends. Okay, maybe 'accused' wasn't the right word, either. 'Reminded' was much better. Either way, Sheldon did understand that it was possible to love someone or something and not want to be all passionate about it.

He'd never tell his friends that he loved them, of course. The feeling wasn't so strong that he felt he needed to say it, and even if it was, he'd never weaken and do so. One didn't tell someone they loved them unless they meant it in that romantic, intimate sense. If he told them, they'd just assume that it was like that.

Sheldon shouldn't have to admit it and then explain he wasn't talking about passion. They wouldn't understand.

Passion. Sheldon understood that word, too. He saw Leonard and Penny, and Howard and Bernadette, and how they needed to be close to one another and know everything about each other, and being so curious to find out about the other, and Sheldon knew what that was like, too. They were unraveling the mysteries of each other, just as Sheldon was with theoretical physics. Granted, his work would someday alter mankind's view of the universe and they weren't accomplishing anything, but he supposed Penny, Leonard, Howard, and Bernadette were doing work similar to his own, only downsized hundreds of times, of course.

Another thing Sheldon loved was routine. The Cheesecake Factory on Tuesdays. New Comic Book Night was Wednesday. Thursday was Pizza Night. Friday was Vintage Video Games, and Saturday was Laundry Night. For years that had been Sheldon's routine, and he loved it. He had no problem admitting that, either.

Then, suddenly, things started changing. One of every four to five Thursdays became Anything Can Happen Thursday, and the name was very self – explanatory. _Anything_ could happen. Sheldon didn't like the word _anything_ when it came to his routine.

When Leonard and Penny broke up, the group dynamic crumbled as everyone tried to adjust. Raj talked more, since Penny wasn't around, and Leonard was bitter and snapped at Sheldon and Raj for trying to talk over each other. Howard had just broken up with Bernadette, or vice versa, no one really knew, and all of a sudden Sheldon's group, his friends, his group _of_ friends, were, for one thing, only eighty percent there, and for another, always angry or depressed. Or both.

But they adjusted, and in time things were much as they were before. But those few months were not without change.

And this time, the change was Sheldon.

Howard and Raj had stolen his preevning from him via blackmail, and sent him to a coffee shop to meet a woman. Amy Farrah Fowler. Sheldon had gone reluctantly, voicing his annoyance and promising them that they were making a mistake.

But then he met her.

A scientist.

Someone who _understands_.

Finally. After fourteen billion years of waiting, the universe had placed two brilliant but awkward minds in the same coffee shop. And they hit it off instantly.

The months passed, and sure, they had their ups and downs. There was the fight that had led Sheldon to adopting twenty – five cats. There was that business of Amy finding Zack Johnson attractive, there was the hand holding, and, of course, there was that business of everyone calling them a couple. Clearly, they didn't understand that girl friend was different from girlfriend.

When Leonard started dating Priya, the group changed again. They began hanging out at Raj's. Penny started avoiding them, hanging out with Bernadette and Amy instead. Sheldon's Vintage Video Game night and Pizza Night was changed, ruined, by this new dynamic.

But not everything changed.

Saturday night had stopped being just Laundry Night long ago. It was also Web Chat night. No matter what either of them were doing, Saturday Evening was Sheldon and Amy night. They talked about their jobs, their mothers, and their problems. They came up with ways to mess with their friends' heads, and they came up with extended science metaphors to make literature more interesting. It didn't help much.

And over time, Amy Farrah Fowler became someone else that Sheldon loved.

Not like that, of course. Not messy. Not romantic. Not passion.

But still, different from how Sheldon felt about his family or friends.

He enjoyed arguing with Amy about who had the more important job, because he loved hearing her weak arguments. He'd told her this once, and she had laughed and said funny, she thought his arguments were the weak ones. He looked forward to executing their plans to mess with their friends, or do bring them unknowingly into experiments. He appreciated the routine that they stuck to when hanging out and planning conversations. And when his cell phone told him that he had a text from her, he was eager to read it and find out what clever pun she was using this time.

He didn't want to hold her hand again. He didn't care for her lips to be anywhere near his. He didn't want to put his arm around her when they were together.

But he loved her.

He didn't say so. People would assume. They'd assume it was…_like that_.

But it wasn't like that.

It was unique. It was different.

It was a Homo Novus kind of love.


End file.
